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A Traveler’s Guide to Wexford: Ireland’s Cultural Jewel

For those who make the short trip from Dublin, the coastal town of Wexford mixes a world-class opera scene with authentic Irish spirit

Wexford Bridge, which stretches out over the broad River Slaney Estuary, is a good place to get your bearings and take in the red, sage green and bright blue houses and storefronts framed by twin church spires.

James Fennell for The Wall Street Journal

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Wexford Bridge, which stretches out over the broad River Slaney Estuary, is a good place to get your bearings and take in the red, sage green and bright blue houses and storefronts framed by twin church spires.

WEXFORD, A SMALL coastal town in southeastern Ireland, is a place that’s become so much a part of my life that I’m still taken aback when, after I mention it, friends inevitably reply, “What part of Ireland is that?” Then again, I don’t know why I should be surprised. Most travelers to Ireland are drawn to the more dramatic landscapes of the West, or to Dublin or maybe the crystal factories of county Waterford. By skipping Wexford, they’re not only missing quintessential Ireland but one of the country’s greatest cultural destinations.

The Wexford Festival Opera, held for 12 days every November, is one of Europe’s key international music events, when the town of 19,000 swells with visitors from the U.S. and Europe. Here, you can experience operatic rarities such as Donizetti’s “Maria Padilla” and Delius’s “Koanga,” in productions that are cast with an impressive lineup of young, unknown singers. Many of them, such as Bryan Hymel, Angela Meade and Eglise Gutierrez, have gone on to major stardom.

’Le Pré Aux Clercs’ at the Wexford Festival Opera
Photo:
Clive Barda

The singers also turn up daily in a series of lunchtime recitals at St. Iberius Church on Main Street; these are so popular that patrons are routinely turned away. You see the same faces each year—not surprisingly, a festival focused on obscure opera draws a die-hard crowd—and the whole town during festival time has the feeling of a house party that’s run amok. I attended for the first time in 1992; this year’s festival, which just ended, was my 15th. But I’ve been to Wexford more than 20 times because the town summons me back so strongly.

Wexford is an easy trip from Dublin on a train that snakes down the coast for about three hours, past neat stone fences, hedgerows of wild fuchsia and grassy pastures filled with cows. Once I arrive, I always begin with an ambitious walk from the train station to my hotel, pulling my luggage behind me as I move along stone-paved Crescent Quay, watching the fishing boats sluice through the still, slate waters of the harbor to the Irish Sea beyond.

Wexford’s spirit is a kind of comforting solitude, removed from it all yet not isolated. In autumn, the weather is still mild; rain comes and goes gently and usually doesn’t last long. Along the quay, you can smell the tang of the sea and the sweet scent of the mussels that cling to the rocks.

It is always a comfort to see the statue of John Barry, the naval hero born in Wexford in 1745, which has become a kind of welcome-home symbol for me. Farther along the quay, when I come around a turn and glimpse the yellow-and-gray marble-and-stucco exterior of the Talbot Hotel, I feel I really am home. The Talbot is a lively gathering place for both visitors and locals, where the staff always remembers me from year to year. A bowl of the Talbot’s seafood chowder—with mussels and shrimp fresh from the Harbor—and a small plate of the hotel’s excellent shortbread biscuits are a good way to settle in, especially in the fall.

A view of Wexford
Photo:
James Fennell for The Wall Street Journal

Like so many small Irish towns, Wexford invites strolling. Wexford Bridge, which stretches out over the broad River Slaney Estuary, is a good place to get your bearings and take in the red, sage green and bright blue houses and storefronts framed by twin church spires. This time of year, the view is best in late afternoon, when the fading light softens the rather austere look of the town.

Back in town, I’ll make my way up Main Street, which twists its way along, revealing its shops, bakeries and cafes. I always stop at the Wexford Arts Centre, where this fall I saw a fine exhibit of paintings and sketches by Jack Butler Yeats, and at Cappuccino’s, for its Banoffee tarts, made with bananas, cream and toffee. Irish bookstores still seem to be thriving; I make sure to visit the Book Center, where I can pick up titles that are hard to find in the U.S. (John Banville and Colm Toibin are both from nearby).

Concerts, poetry readings and art exhibits are never hard to find in Wexford. The Irish National Opera House presents musical and theatrical productions year-round by companies including Ballet Ireland, Opera Theatre Company and the Abbey Theatre. But even if the town had none of these, I would return simply to be reassured that, in these smartphone-driven times, the art of face-to-face conversation is alive and well. The Wexford residents I’ve met seem to love to talk—about pretty much anything—though I’ve found they have a sly and sometimes disconcerting way of drawing far more out of you than they reveal about themselves.

Oysters at Thomas Moore Tavern
Photo:
James Fennell for The Wall Street Journal

You might encounter this same conversational gambit in pubs such as the Thomas Moore Tavern, where local musicians often play, and Simon Lambert & Sons, a popular Main Street spot where I’ve fallen into more than one conversation with a stranger who turned into a friend.

I once memorably heard Jimmy Kelly, a local machinist, sing the old Andy Williams tune “Solitaire” in the Singing & Swinging Pubs Competition, sponsored by Guinness each year. This is the townspeople’s event, and the locals, like Mr. Kelly, take enormous pride in it. There is nothing quite like the raw beauty and natural communicative power of a good untrained voice, and I find it mysterious that so few of the festival’s operagoers take advantage of the pub competition. They miss some indelible performances by nonprofessionals.

I’m never sad to leave Wexford, though. People joke about the “Irish goodbye”—leaving a social gathering without saying farewell to avoid the flow of conversation that renders it impossible to make it to the door. For me, the real beauty of a Wexford goodbye is that it’s never final.

The Lowdown // Touring Wexford

Jason Lee

Staying There: The Talbot Hotel offers solid, unpretentious Irish cooking and stylish rooms, many with views of Crescent Quay (from about $106 a night, talbotwexford.ie). Rooms at the Ferrycarrig Hotel are comfortable and have fine views of the River Slaney Estuary (from about $74 a night, ferrycarrighotel.ie).

Dining There: Reserve ahead to dine at Cistín Eile, an excellent recent addition to Wexford’s restaurant scene. The baked hake with mashed potatoes and smoked paprika sauce is especially good (80 South Main St.; cistineilewexford.com). The Yard is a casual, friendly restaurant with an inventive menu (theyard.ie). The town’s most popular high-end restaurant, La Cote, specializes in seafood and has relaxing views of the River Slaney Estuary. The menu changes constantly, based on the latest catch. Try the warm toffee apple crumble with caramel sauce and cinnamon ice cream for dessert (Custom House Quay; lacote.ie). The Thomas Moore Tavern, a great place for a drink, day or night, has an excellent restaurant upstairs that serves a perfect fillet of Irish Hereford, aged 28 days, and wild Irish boar steak with chocolate jelly (Cornmarket; thomasmooretavern.com).